A Reunion of Sorts
by M'rika
Summary: Tonks comes face to face with Rabastan Lestrange and has difficulty arresting him. Oneshot. Non romantic pairing. Please read author's note.


An: This is not an M. But it is the higher end of T. If you're, like, 13, personally, I would rather you didn't read it, but it is your choice. Just don't review and tell me you're 13 and it made you uncomfortable. Because I will not be sympathetic. There are sexual references in this (but no actual sex.) Don't like to read, don't read. Kay? Enjoy.

A Reunion of Sorts

"Nymphadora Tonks." Rabastan bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile.

"Don't call me Nymphadora," she spat, the kneejerk response escaping her lips before she could stop herself.

"But it suits you so well," he told her, still lounging on the chaise lounge. The once grand house was falling to pieces about them, as though this final attack was too much for it to bear. The room was empty aside from the seat he had commandeered. It was an eerie sight, a brightly coloured chaise lounge in the middle of a derelict building, but an Auror did not scare easily.

"Get up." Her wand was already level with his heart and she did not tremble when he stood, even though he was taller than she expected and broader too. This was not the half emaciated man that she had seen pictures of; but that made sense as he'd been in Azkaban for a long time when those photos had been taken. Now he had been at large for months, more than likely living in luxury in France. But now he was in England, and that was what mattered, because here she had jurisdiction. But for some reason it had surprised her that the man standing in front of her was proud, well dressed and clean-shaven. Nothing like he had been in prison.

"Now that you have me, what do you intend to do with me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, whilst insouciantly straightening a white shirt cuff.

She narrowed her eyes. While she didn't expect death eaters to break down crying, begging for their freedom, she expected some emotion, some reaction to the fact that he had no wand (she had disarmed him earlier), he couldn't apparate ( her partner Fredricks was holding the anti-apparation spells) and she was about to send him back to Azkaban (for an extremely long time). "You'll be going back to prison," she told him coldly. "Hands above your head."

As he slowly did as she said, he watched her closely. "How's your mother?"

"Fine," she stated abruptly, before waving her wand, causing cuffs to encircle his wrists.

As he brought his hands down in front of him, he idly examined the restraints. "Handcuffs on a first date. You're lucky I'm open minded," he commented. "And a Metamorphmagus. Never done it with one of your kind. And I have done a lot," he assured her, as though this was an everyday conversation.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Tonks couldn't prevent the blush that spread across her face. This was not how this was meant to be. He ought to be scared, nervous at least, not cocky and almost hitting on her. "Start walking towards the door."

"Authoritative too." He flashed her a grin. "I like it."

"Shut up," she snapped, concentrating on making sure her wand hand didn't waver.  
>"Azkaban does allow conjugal visits you know," he continued nonchalantly. "Though the small space requires some creativity."<p>

"I said, shut up." He was nearly at the door now, and she was following behind, her wand pointed directly at his back.

"And I'm nothing if not creative," he drawled, as he walked a few paces into what had once been the herb garden. Now it was nothing more than a graveyard for weeds. "Did your mother ever tell you?"

"Stay where you are," she told him firmly, concentrating on ignoring every word he was saying.

"I imagine you can keep a man interested," he continued. "All those possibilities. It must be fascinating."

She sent up blue sparks, the prearrange signal for her partner to send word to Moody, before joining her to wait with Lestrange. "Be quiet."

"I'd suggest a gag but you have to buy me dinner first," he replied, a wolfish grin dancing across his face.

She let the disgust show clearly on her face, though inwardly she was wondering where Fredricks was. "You're practically my uncle."

"And this is a problem why?" He asked, then grinned widely. "Where's your partner? He hasn't sent any returning sparks."

He was right, and a sick feeling of panic settled in the pit of her stomach. "He has," she said defiantly. "He's behind you."

"See that's very odd," he drawled. "Because my brother's behind **you**."

Even as he said it, Tonks was turning round to come face to face with Rodolphus Lestrange, who was already in the process of casting imperio on her. _Unlock the handcuffs. Give me his wand. Unlock the handcuffs._

She could feel her arm lifting her wand to cast the release, when a tiny voice in her head softly said _**why?**_

_Unlock the handcuffs. Unlock them._

_**why? **_The voice was quiet and while she had turned to cast the spell, releasing Rabastan's hands from the cuffs, she hadn't released her grip on the wand.

_Give me the wand. Give me his wand._

_**why?**_

She could see Rabastan walking towards her, slowly, predatorily, and she could feel her heart rate increase in fear. Fredricks was more than likely dead, and she would be next. And at the hands of her family. Her mother's worst fears coming true.

_Give me his wand._

Her tiny measure of defiance faded in the face of Rodolphus' emphasis on the words, and she handed him his brother's wand. _And yours._

Rabastan retrieved his wand from her brother, taking hers for good measure.

"Defiant to the end?" he asked, casting his gaze over her, arching a dark eyebrow. "Just like your mother."

Utterly vulnerable without her wand, a Lestrange brother on either side of her and Rodolphus' wand in her back, she spat at him. "I'm proud to take after my mom."

He wiped her spit from his face and looked at her in amusement. "How do you see this going Nymphadora? A quick killing curse. Oh no, no, no." He tutted as though she were a small child who'd asked if she could possibly borrow his wand please. "We will make you suffer. We will hurt you in ways you wouldn't have thought possible. And then, when you are begging us for death, then we will take you to your mother and kill you in front of her. It's a shame when the children must pay for the sins of their parents, but " -He ran a hand across her cheek – "I think I'll manage to enjoy it."

She leaned slightly closer to him, close enough to see the faint scar that slashed across his right cheek. "Fuck. You." She enunciated clearly.

He laughed. "Feisty. I like it. Maybe you'll find out how much later."

"STUPEFY!" The comforting sound of Moody's voice echoed through the silence of the night, a flash of red light flicking through the air, close to Rabastan's head. He looked past her to see the feared auror approaching, firing hexes and curses as he did so.

"Maybe another time," he drawled, dropping her wand. "I do hate to rush things," he added, before he and his brother apparated away. She dropped to her knees to scrabble in the grass blindly till her hand clenched around her wand, its slight weight bringing her comfort.

"Tonks! Tonks." Dawlish was running towards her, and lifted her to her feet. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you? They got Fredricks."

"M'fine," she muttered, suddenly finding that she was shaking and couldn't stop  
>"What did I say when you passed your final auror exam?" Moody demanded, his wand causing light to flood her eyes.<p>

"Constant Viligance," Tonks forced out. "And to stop changing my hair to ridiculous colours."

"It's her," Moody said gruffly. "Come on. We need to get you back to Headquarters."

Still trembling, she allowed them to apparate her back to Grimmauld place. It had been the first time she'd faced Rabastan Lestrange and she found herself praying it would be the last. Her aunt didn't scare her; madness was logical, it just ran on parallel lines to most people's logic. But to appear completely without morals was terrifying. And Rabastan** was** amoral. His conversation had proved that. She didn't stop shaking even hours later, sat in front of the fire, trying to convince herself that good would defeat evil.


End file.
